Howard Baldwin, My Dad

At the January meeting of our local genealogy society, our speaker was David Kendall, the author of “When Descendants Become Ancestors: The Flip Side of Genealogy” (available on Amazon). His premise is that as genealogists we should be documenting the events in our lives for our descendants so they don’t have to wonder about things. This got me thinking that I know a lot about my direct ancestors, my parents. Besides living with them for 18 years, I have heard many stories about their lives that I should write down for my children and grandchildren. I decided to start with my father. My children were still fairly young when he died so I am fairly certain they never heard his stories about his childhood.

My father was born and raised in North Dakota. I think of him as a farm boy but his father didn’t really farm until my dad was 13 or 14 years old. Prior to this time, he managed a farm implement store first in Grand Forks and then in Langdon, ND. My grandfather had the personality of a successful salesman. My father remembered getting their first Model T when he was about 9 years old. One day his father said, “Howard, come with me. I need to catch a train.” So my Dad got in the car and rode with his father to the depot. Once they got there, my grandfather told him to drive the car home. So my Dad drove the car home. One problem though - he didn’t know how to stop it. I asked, “What did you do?” He replied, “I prayed real hard all the way home that I wouldn’t meet another vehicle and when I pulled into the yard, I yelled for Ed (his big brother).” He learned real quick where the brake was.

They moved to a rural township before 1925 and my grandfather started farming. I know that Dad went to St. Thomas to live with his grandparents when he attended the first year of high school. He was very homesick so did not go back for more schooling. He completed high school in Grand Forks, graduating from University High School which was part of the University of North Dakota. For many farm children, it was the only way to get the required courses for admittance to the University. After graduating from high school, Dad continued into his undergraduate work and earned both BA and BS degrees, graduating in 1937 and going directly into medical school.  While he was in Grand Forks, he worked for his uncle in the summer. Uncle Bill Baldwin’s farm included vegetable farming and he hired my father to drive his produce to market. This was Grand Forks about 40 miles south of St. Thomas. My Dad told me he drove this ratty old truck that was always breaking down and continually needed fixing. One day after he had made his delivery, he was returning to St. Thomas when he realized he didn’t have any brakes. North Dakota is very flat; you can see for long distances in every direction. As he was driving, he noticed a horse and buggy coming toward the intersection ahead. It looked like the horse and the truck were going to meet in the middle. He tried to slow down as much as possible using the gears and he prayed real hard. The horse just cleared the intersection before the truck arrived. Phew.

Another job he had as an undergraduate was selling aluminum cookware. Aluminum was a new material for cookware and Dad sold this product by going into homes and cooking a meal. Usually the hostess would invite several friends and neighbors to come and eat too. Dad always was a good cook and very personable. He was one of the top salesmen for the company and they offered him a permanent job when he finished school but he wanted a career in medicine so he turned them down.

The University of North Dakota Medical School is a two year program. After completing these 2 years, students have to go elsewhere to complete their clinical training. My Dad went to New York Medical College which was affiliated with Flower Fifth Avenue Hospital in New York City. This is where he met my mother. Dad found an unheated attic room and managed to complete his training with very little money. He would go to a restaurant and order tea. Then he would take the hot water and add catsup to make tomato soup. He ate lots of cheese sandwiches because they were cheap and had protein. He told me it was so cold in his attic room that he would have to study by flashlight under a pile of blankets. He vowed that he would never be cold again. I remember how fussy he was about the furnace. He wanted the most reliable, most efficient furnace. And outside of an ice storm or two, it was never cold in our house.

It is humbling to know how much our parents sacrificed and how hard they worked to become the successful people they were. All I know is his hard work made my life very comfortable and secure. Thanks, Dad.